


i buried a hatchet, it's coming up lavender

by dykemedusa



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish is Bad at Feelings, Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, Repression, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, Snowed In, Tenderness, [ driving under stars by marika hackman plays ], break up / get back together AU, fire imagery used as a metaphor for repressed desire, rated m because they will at some point get over their repression and have sex, wintertime / holiday season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2019-11-21 17:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykemedusa/pseuds/dykemedusa
Summary: Adam and Ronan hadn't really ended on bad terms. They hadn't really ended. They just took a break. And they'd been friends for so long, hadn't they? If Adam was going back to Virginia, he would have to see Ronan. Of course he would.After everything they had been through, he had to see him.or: Adam comes home from Stanford for winter break, and plans to spend the first few days with Ronan.





	1. i had two longings and one was fighting the other

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this fic comes from smoke signals by phoebe bridgers. you can listen to my playlist for this fic here: https://open.spotify.com/user/carlyicfc/playlist/5V8mY4xjucbInAUWyRHkng?si=79MdHeh1SOeoqjKUizEWhA

I had two longings and one was fighting the other. I wanted to be loved and I wanted to be always

alone.

  
—  Jean Rhys,  _ Wide Sargasso Sea _

 

After four months in Palo Alto, Virginia felt cold. Adam rubbed his hands, and checked his phone. There were no new texts from Ronan, which didn’t surprise him. He didn’t know why he checked. He’d either be here, or he wouldn’t. And Ronan wasn’t one to break promises. 

 

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The December chill bit at his nose, and by the time a charcoal BMW finally rolled up to arrivals, Adam was properly freezing.

 

"Hey,” Adam didn’t hesitate, stepping down off the curb to knock on the dark window. His suitcase clattered behind him discordantly.

 

The window rolled down to reveal Ronan, his expression sober. He was wearing an uncharacteristically purple knit beanie.

 

"Parrish.” Ronan nodded. “You gonna throw that in the back?” 

 

“Yeah. I just need you to, uh," he scraped a hand over his hair. “Unlock the trunk.” 

 

"Right." Ronan pressed a button on the driver's side door, and the trunk clicked unlocked. Adam ducked behind the car to shove his suitcase and backpack inside. There wasn't much in the trunk. Reusable grocery bags, gauze, tape, and a pair of ratty boxing gloves. Adam squeezed his stuff in among Ronan's things, and shut the trunk.

 

In the front seat, Ronan had the heat blasting. Adam melted into his seat gratefully, and rubbed his hands together again, blowing his warm breath over his fingers. Ronan fiddled with the stereo until it started playing something electronic, and then he pulled out of the line of cars to exit the airport.

 

Adam turned to look at him. He was still wearing the hat, so he couldn't tell if his hair had gotten any longer, but he tried to scrutinize any sign of change. Were the circles under his eyes darker? Were his hands rough from farmwork? Ronan looked the same. He always looked the same. In every screenshot Gansey posted from their long-distance facetime sessions, in every tagged photo Adam could dredge up from his minimal facebook page his eyes were still blue, his skin was still prone to sunburn, and he still looked sharp enough that Adam could cut himself. Nothing had changed over the fall.

 

Only Adam had.

 

"Hey," he reached out to tug the beanie over Ronan's ear. "Where'd this come from?"

 

Ronan shooed his hand away and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I'm driving." He said, disgruntled. "Fox Way."

 

"Blue made it?" Adam's thoughts were already racing ahead of him, memories mingling with new anxieties. He was supposed to be a psychic, but he hadn't touched his tarot cards since he left in August. They were probably still at The Barns. Or maybe Ronan had brought them back to Maura and Calla.

 

Ronan shook his head. "Maura. Early Christmas gift."

 

"Maura?" Adam echoed. In the time that he'd known Ronan, he hadn't really gotten along with the women of 300 Fox Way. It was difficult to imagine that changing over the span of just a few months. "Do you hang out around there a lot?"

 

Ronan shrugged, and turned on his blinker. They were about to get on the highway to make the two hour drive back to Henrietta. "Not really. I just help them with odd jobs, sometimes."

 

"Like what?" Adam tried not to sound skeptical.

 

"I helped them re-build the fence in their backyard." Ronan paused. "Sometimes they get me to change a light bulb. Don't make it weird, Parrish."

 

Adam quieted for a long moment. Ronan didn't look different, but clearly something had changed. Finally, he said: "It's nice of her to make you something."

 

Behind the wheel, Ronan rolled his eyes. "If you're so into the hat, you can have it. Purple isn't my color." After a moment of thought he added: "I doubt you'll need it in California, though." 

 

They had barely talked about Stanford until he left. Until it was already falling apart. Adam couldn't tell if this was a subtle jab, or if Ronan was actually being thoughtful. Either way it scraped at his insides, like a scalpel against teeth.

 

"It gets cold sometimes." Adam knew he sounded defensive, even to his own ears. He couldn't stand it. All this time, and as soon as they saw each other again, the wound felt raw all over again. He turned his head to look out the window, the headlights of other cars rushing past in the dark.  He was supposed to spend a few days with Ronan, alone, and suddenly he had no idea how to do it. A month ago, when Blue and Gansey had visited for Thanksgiving, it sounded like it would be easy. Now, he thought he'd wasted the first two weeks of break working back in California to make up for the travelling fees. 

 

Adam and Ronan hadn't  _ really  _ ended on bad terms. They hadn't really ended. They just took a break. And they'd been friends for so long, hadn't they? If Adam was going back to Virginia, he would have to see Ronan. Of course he would. After everything they had been through, he had to see him.

 

That was what he'd thought when he bought the plane tickets in November. When he'd called Ronan up for the first time in two months, and asked to stay for the first couple days before Christmas. He'd made plans to go to stay with Blue as soon as she, Henry, and Gansey returned for the holidays, but his break started earlier than they were planning to come back. Adam tried- but he couldn't find anywhere cheap enough to stay after the cost of the tickets back home. Why shouldn't he stay with an old friend? It made sense. And now that he was here, it still made sense on a logical level.

 

But he didn't know how to talk to Ronan anymore. He didn't know anything about the life he lead now that he was gone. And worst of all, now that they were together, Adam  _ missed  _ him. He missed the way they could communicate with just a look. He missed someone sleeping next to him. He missed how Ronan supported him- sometimes without even saying a word.

 

"It doesn't snow there." Ronan tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "In San Francisco."

 

"Palo Alto." Adam corrected- but he hadn't been far off. "And no. It doesn't."

 

"Not really winter then, is it?" He was still drumming his fingers- an anxious sound.

 

Adam thought of the year he was twelve and how it snowed for three days straight- the biggest snowstorm Virginia had in years. School was cancelled for over two weeks, and he was trapped in the house with his parents like starving dogs. His father hit him so much that even now his left eye drooped half shut sometimes.

 

"No," Adam said. "Not really." 

* * *

It had been an eight flight and Adam was exhausted. Sometime between the lapses in conversation, about halfway back to Henrietta, Adam fell asleep in the passenger seat. He'd been in this car so many times though, that it was a comfortable sleep. He had no nightmares, no dreams at all. 

 

"Parrish," Someone was shaking his shoulder. "Hey, asshole. We're here." 

 

Adam woke slowly, leaning into the hand on his shoulder, the familiar voice overhead. "Come on." 

 

"I'm up, I'm up." Adam mumbled, and rubbed his eyes. Ronan was leaning on the passenger side door, a scowl on his face. 

 

"Did you drool on the seats?" 

 

Adam rolled his eyes. "No." 

 

"Well, it seems like you had a nice nap." 

 

Adam got out of the passenger seat, crowded briefly against Ronan, who was looming overhead. They were close enough for an instant that he could feel his body heat. He was so tall. Adam always forgot, unless he was standing close to him. He stepped back, away from the car. 

 

The air was colder, but cleaner. It felt like a balm on Adam's lungs, even as his breath made clouds in the night. When he looked up over his head, he could see the shapes of tree branches and the light of stars through the canopy. Back at school, there was too much light pollution to see the stars. He'd forgotten how much he loved them, how much time he'd spent out in these fields, or up on the old farmhouse roof to catch the sunrise. 

 

Something twisted in him, that old part of him that always wondered what he'd be like if he had grown up somewhere like The Barns. Instead, he found himself wondering why he'd left. 

 

 

"Want me to get your shit?" Ronan offered, in the most impolite way possible. 

 

"I can get it," Adam said, and went to pop the trunk. It was difficult to drag his rolling suitcase over the gravel and up to the front porch, but he managed. Ronan walked in front of him, swinging the keys to the house idly around his fingers. 

 

Inside it was warm, and smelled like cedar wood and lemon cleaner. Ronan flicked on the lights in the front hall and the living room. From somewhere in the bowels of the house, Adam could hear a bird cawing. He left his luggage in the hall, and watched as Ronan took the steps two at a time into the pitch-black of the upstairs. 

 

After the demon, neither of them had been able to sleep without the lights on for a full month. Ronan had dreamt them strange night-light flowers that hovered over Adam's bed at St. Agnes, or his own bed here at The Barns. 

 

Watching Ronan step into the darkness so confidently felt strange to Adam. In dark stairwells he still flinched, still felt something crawling under his skin. It had been over a year, and he was still afraid. 

 

L ight flooded from overhead. Ronan had turned the lights on, and now he was standing on the landing- a raven on his shoulder, her head pressed comfortably against his. Chainsaw. She cocked her head at Adam, quizzical, her black eyes shining liquid-dark under the lights. He wondered if she recognized him. She adjusted her grip on Ronan's shoulder, testily, and then let out another caw. 

 

" _ KERAH!"  _

 

"Shut it," Ronan told her, but without any bite. He deposited her on the railing, and she hopped down onto the steps, proceeding to peck between his feet like she might find something interesting. 

 

"Never thought I'd miss the sound of a cranky raven." Adam said, mirthful. For the first time since he saw him last, Ronan smiled. It wasn't the unguarded kind smile that he used to be gifted with, but instead a thin-lipped one that meant he was pleased and didn't want to show it. 

 

"She's just mad I left her. It was only four hours, and I even left the window open."

 

"Your room must be freezing."

 

Ronan shrugged. "It'll warm up. And you're taking Declan's anyways."

 

Adam felt a twist of disappointment. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. The house was empty- there was no reason for them to share a bed. Over the summer, Ronan had moved into his parents old room so they'd have more space, and he probably still occupied it. He was too tall now for his childhood bed- he'd complained about it before.

 

Chainsaw hopped over Ronan's foot, and then fluttered back onto the railing with another loud caw. Adam stifled a yawn. As strange as it was to be back at The Barns- as electrifying- he was exhausted. Discounting his nap in the BMW, he'd been awake for almost 24 hours.

 

"I think I'm gonna take an early night." He told Ronan. "I've had a hell of a travel day."

 

"Fine by me, Parrish. I have cows to take care of." He came down the stairs, past Adam and towards the end of the hall cluttered with muck boots and old, waxed canvas jackets. Seeing Ronan's departure, Chainsaw launched herself into the air, touching down briefly to peck at Adam's shoulder. When she rejoined Ronan, his expression softened. "I think she missed you."

 

The way he said it, looking at him like he used to look at him, like it was last July, made something in Adam's throat turn tight. He looked down at his tatty pair of tennis shoes, avoiding Ronan's gaze. "I think I missed her too."

 

There was a long, tense moment of silence. Adam kept looking at his shoes.

 

"Well," Ronan said. "I'm going to check on the cows." And with that, he stuffed his feet into a pair of muck boots and stomped off into the night.

 

Adam let out a breath.

 

Upstairs, he didn't bother putting his things away in the drawers. They would be full of Declan's old clothes anyway. He only spread out his suitcase on the floor, and left his toothbrush in the bathroom after he brushed his teeth. He climbed into bed without changing into a sleep shirt or taking off his jeans. He was asleep in record time.

 

The next morning, Adam was woken only by the pale blue light streaming in through the blinds. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and propped himself up in bed, checking his phone. He had no new emails, but a text from Gansey had come after he'd fallen asleep. 

 

_ We're excited to see you so soon! _

 

Attached was a photo of Blue, Gansey, and Henry posing in Stanley Park. It made him smile to see them all together, unabashedly joyful. Totally unworried. They had driven the Camaro across America over the fall, and now they were staying in Vancouver. They were flying back for Christmas. Adam would stay with Blue after she got home, and then they would all spend New Years together at Monmouth. They would all be together again for the first time since June. With a pang, Adam realized how much he'd missed them. He had friends at school, of course- people he studied with, or went to movies with, or complained about cafeteria food with- but it wasn't the same. None of them knew Adam on anything more than a surface level, and there was no way he could explain what he'd been through in the last year. Searching for a Welsh King and sacrificing his limbs to a sentient forest? He would sound insane- and that was without bringing up the demon and the supernaturally hot ex-boyfriend back in Virginia. 

 

No- Adam didn't tell people much about himself.

 

He left his phone on the bedside table, and dug around his suitcase for a pair of sweatpants. His stomach growled, a reminder that he hadn't eaten anything since the airport bagel he scarfed down on the plane. He needed to eat. 

 

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty, but the remains of a fire smoldered in the living room fireplace. Adam stuck his hands over the coals for a moment, savoring the heat. His hands and feet were always cold, even in the summertime. He'd always been able to surprise Ronan, pressing his foot against his shin under the sheets to make him jump back or curse. Eventually, Ronan made him start wearing socks to bed. 

 

"Your feet are freezing," He would say.

 

"Poor circulation."

 

He would tuck his face into Adam's neck, his stubble scraping against tender skin. "Ice water for blood."

 

When Adam's hands were sufficiently warm, he went to rummage through the kitchen cabinets for something to eat. He wasn't in the mood to scour the fridge and make eggs or bacon; so he ended up making instant oatmeal from a little boxed package.  _ Heart Healthy Cinnamon Apple Oatmeal!  _ it told him cheerfully.

 

It was warm, sugary, and probably the apple flavor was artificial. But it was comforting on a day like this. He could see condensation on the windows from the warmth of the house, and the  gray sky outside that threatened to pour down freezing rain. It wasn't unusual for December weather but Adam had been looking forward to crisp air and the blue spine of the mountains outlined against the sky. Today, they were swallowed by clouds.

 

Cabeswater was long gone, but sometimes Adam still felt pulled back to the ley line. He would find himself up at night, looking at a map of the Shenandoah Valley online, or trawling flickr for photos of the blue ridge. It left him feeling restless and itchy, a tingle under his skin that he couldn't get rid of. He couldn't tell if it made it worse or better to be back.

 

The door slammed and Adam looked up from his mushy bowl of oatmeal. He could hear the heavy footfalls of Ronan's boots, before a thump indicating he'd abandoned them or something else heavy in the front hall. A moment later, Ronan rounded the corner to the kitchen. His cheeks and ears were a ruddy, saturated red from the cold.

 

"Hey," Adam said.

 

Ronan pulled a heavy sweater over his head, his response muffled by the layer of wool. "Mffrnng Pariff." he plunked himself down on the kitchen counter, socked feet knocking against the cabinets. "'s freezing out there."

 

He was wearing a black thermal shirt that stuck to his broad chest and shoulders in a way that was mildly distracting, and a pair of grubby blue jeans.

 

Adam chose not to look at his chest. "It looks like it's about to spit rain."

 

"Ice," Ronan said unhappily. "It's supposed to be an ice storm."

 

"Shit." Adam remembered how sometimes, when it was too cold for rain but not quite cold enough for snow, Henrietta would end up covered in ice. Trees and powerlines would break under the weight of it. "Will The Barns will be okay?"

 

Ronan shrugged. "It won't mess with the animals. I have some heat lamps so they'll be fucking cozy. Don't know about the plum trees out front, though."

 

"Aren't heat lamps a fire hazard if they're around flammable stuff? Like hay?"

 

He rolled his eyes at Adam. "Not if they're dreamt-up, genius."

 

Adam made a sour face. "You didn't specify."

 

"Whatever, Parrish." Ronan said, pushing back from the counter and going to rifle through the fridge. "You want something else or are you just going to sit there eating mush?"

 

He eyed Ronan suspiciously. "What are you making?"

 

"Bacon." His head was practically inside the fridge. "Eggs. I don't fucking know. Food."

 

He emerged with a pack of bacon in his hand. "What do you want?"

 

"I'm fine with whatever." Adam said, taking another bite of his oatmeal.

 

Ronan snorted. "Clearly. Matthew got that shit last time he was here."

 

Adam hadn't seen Matthew since late last summer, when he and Declan had visited for a weekend. They all made barbeque and swam in the muddy hole he and Ronan built in July. It had been hot, and sunny, and of course because it was summer in Virginia, it was sweaty. He and Ronan spent hours on the bedroom floor with their shirts off, air conditioning turned all the way up. They made cupcakes and put the blue icing on too early. It melted all over the place, but Matthew loved them.

 

He didn't know how either of the Lynch brothers would feel about seeing him now. He and Ronan were broken up- or something like it.

 

Adam cleared his throat and watched as Ronan lay down bacon in a pan, methodical. "Where's Matthew now?"

 

"Some fancy-ass Quaker school where Obama's kids went. Declan liked it."

 

"How about Matthew? Does he like it?"

 

Ronan shrugged, and with his back turned, Adam could see all the muscles under his skin moving through his shirt.

 

"They don't have lacrosse there so he's doing wrestling. Sweaty shit, so yeah. I'd say he likes it."

 

"That's good," Adam said. He liked Matthew. It was impossible  _ not  _ to like Matthew, and he knew how much Ronan cared for him. "I'm really glad."

 

"He told me they have this weird thing-" There was a loud pop from the sizzling hot pan, and Ronan cursed. The bacon grease must have burned him. He sucked on the heel of his palm for a moment. "They all sit in silence for an hour or some shit. And you can only talk if you feel 'moved to.' What does that even mean?"

 

Adam felt a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "Does he sleep through it?"

 

"Of course." Ronan scoffed. "He sleeps through our church sermons when someone's actually talking." He poked at the bacon in the pan with a fork.

 

Adam looked down at his oatmeal. He wanted to ask what Ronan had been doing. If he was okay. He  _ looked  _ fine. Better than fine. His skin was bright, his hair was freshly cut, and there weren't any new scars on his arms- accidental looking or otherwise. He didn't know why he'd been worried that their break would affect Ronan in some way. He hadn't actually wanted to take a break- but the thought of stringing Ronan through three more years of college and then three more years of law school was nearly unbearable. He would be on the other side of the country for six years. It wasn't fair to either of them.

 

He tried to sound casual around the lump in his throat. "And what have you been doing?"

 

Ronan stilled. He'd been putting paper towels on a plate, presumably to soak up the bacon grease when he got the bacon out of the pan. "I've been working on the farm." He said slowly. The pan cracked and sizzled. "I haven't changed my life just because you left, Adam."

 

He felt shame burning his ears. "I didn't mean it like that." He wanted to say:  _ you knew I was leaving. You said it would be okay.  _ "I just wanted to know what you've been doing. How the farm is. Stuff like that."

 

"I built a greenhouse." Ronan said. He was carefully transferring the bacon from the pan to the plate. "And I started making cheese."

 

"Cheese?" Adam echoed.

 

Ronan nodded. It was hard to imagine Ronan making cheese- but that was probably because Adam had no idea how one made cheese.

 

"What kind of cheese?"

 

Ronan shrugged and took a bite of the bacon, moving to dig through the fridge again. "Goat cheese. Fancy french shit, you know. Chevre. Roll it in some dried herbs and rich fuckers eat it up."

 

Adam wanted to say that Ronan  _ was  _ a rich fucker but that had also been well established in their relationship by now, and it wouldn't do anything but make him sound bitter. Instead, he said: "Let me try it."

 

Ronan was still rifling in the fridge. "Bossy." He said. Adam stood up and crossed the room to look over his shoulder. Ronan grabbed the eggs, and backed away from the fridge. "Fine. Go wild, Parrish. It's in the Tupperware container. There's crackers in the pantry."

 

Turning his back to Adam, he cracked his eggs into the pan- still coated in a thick layer of bacon grease. They dropped in with a loud sizzle. It smelled delicious.

 

"Will you make me one over easy?"

 

Ronan waved his hand in a noncommittal gesture that probably meant yes. Adam got out the cheese. Without looking for the crackers, he grabbed a knife from a drawer next to the sink and tested the cheese plain.

 

It was good. Creamy, rich, and a tiny bit salty. It was the kind of thing some of his classmates would get on their salad at an overpriced brunch place on a sunday afternoon. Which meant Ronan could probably sell it if he wanted.

 

"Have you thought about selling it?" 

 

"I kind of am." Ronan said, sounding somehow sheepish about it. "Do you like it?"

 

"What do you mean 'kind of'? It's good." Adam had another bite. Then he closed the tupperware before he spoiled his appetite and made himself sick eating cheese.

 

Ronan shrugged. "Maura started buying it off me, and then told some of her clients about it. They were buying it off her and then some of them tried coming out to the farm- which was a fucking hell mess." Ronan shuffled the eggs around the pan. "So I stopped selling it to anyone but 300 Fox Way. Which is fine for now- I'm starting at the farmer's market in Charlottesville this spring, anyways."

 

"Wow." Adam said. "The farmer's market."

 

"Asshole" Ronan shot him a sharp look. "It's a start. Better than people coming out here and sticking their nose in shit. "

 

Ronan's shoulders were a tense line, and Adam was reminded of the strain he must be under. His dreaming was a secret that people would kill him for- and The Barns was at the heart of it.

 

He softened. "Hey. I'm sorry. It's really cool what you're doing and I'm happy for you. If it's making you happy, I'm happy for you." 

 

Ronan looked begrudging, but he said. "Thanks." He plopped two eggs out of the pan and onto a plate with a spatula, and shoved them at Adam, who was still standing next to the fridge after putting the cheese away. 

 

Adam took it, and Ronan pointed at him with the spatula. "Take some of the bacon too. The freshman 15 clearly did nothing for you."

 

"Hey!" He was only mildly offended because it was completely true.

 

"You look the same as you did when you left." He looked at Adam for a long moment and then corrected himself. "You have more freckles now."

 

Adam felt heat rising high in his ears. Ronan had told him once, when he was drunk on sleep and summer, that he loved his freckles.

 

He ducked his head and mumbled. "I'm just in the sun more."

 

"California boy." Ronan said, without any disdain.

 

Adam ate his eggs. 

* * *

  
  


That evening, the wind howled and the trees groaned. It got dark at five, and when Adam looked out the windows into the fields he could only see blackness and a light on in one of the barns like the beacon of a lighthouse. He hadn't seen much of Ronan since breakfast- partially because he'd spent the rest of the morning in the living room, finally reading for pleasure for the first time in months- and because Ronan had been out on the property all day.

 

Adam stole a jacket off of the hook by the door, and slipped into a pair of too-large muck boots. He made his way across the pastures using his phone as a flashlight to avoid cow shit and muddy holes from too many hooves. It wasn’t a long walk, but by the time Adam ducked inside the barn- his nose and ears felt frozen. He’d stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of the jacket, despite the tell-tale grime of animal feed that had clearly been stowed there previously.

 

Inside the barn it was bright, and considerably warmer than outside. The cattle were lying in the hay, their large, rangy bodies casting long shadows across the floor. Ronan was crouched off to the side, and Adam rapped his knuckles against the wall to alert him to his presence. Ronan only looked over his shoulder, and then beckoned with a lazy wave of his hand.

 

“If you’re lurking in here Parrish, you might as well help.”

 

Adam came over to see Ronan mixing cup fulls of a thick powder into warm water. “Is that milk?”

 

Ronan nodded absently, whisking the mixture until it turned white and frothy. He poured it from the bucket into a two liter bottle, and screwed a strange lid with an artificial teat on.

 

A loud bleat came from the corner of the barn, and Adam turned to see a baby cow with its face pressed up against the wooden slats of a makeshift stall. It bleated again, its tail flicking. 

 

“You didn’t say you had calves right now.” Adam was surprised. Winter wasn’t the usual calving season.

 

Ronan thrust the bottle at Adam. “Just one. Born late, and the mom abandoned it.” 

 

“So you’re bottle feeding.”

 

“Bingo, genius. And you get to do the fun part.” He stood and clasped Adam’s shoulder. “C’mon, the baby’s over here.”

 

He guided Adam over to the stall. Upon hearing Ronan and Adam’s footfalls, the cow began to bleat even more, pacing excitedly in the stall. It was mostly brown, with large patches of creamy white fur. Adam was not immune to the charm of baby animals, and he felt himself smiling despite the tension between him and Ronan. The calve flicked its tail at them, beat its hooves in joy. It mooed. 

 

“Calm down,” Ronan told it. “Dinner’s coming.”

 

Adam looped his arm over the stall, and tilted the bottle down where the calf could reach it. Immediately, the cow began to suckle it with the enthusiasm of the hungry. Milk began to froth around its mouth like a mustache.

 

“Tilt it down.” Ronan told him, and took Adam’s hand around the bottle, moving it to a lower angle so the calf could nurse easier. “And if she starts wheezing take it away. She might be cute, but she’s got a brain the size of a walnut. She’ll choke herself on the food.” 

 

Adam nodded. Ronan’s hand was still on top of his, a moment too long to be mistaken for guidance. Adam knew he was holding the bottle the right way. Their shoulders were pressed close and if he shifted to the side, he would be flush against Ronan’s chest. 

 

But Ronan stepped back and put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Adam tried not to feel betrayed.

 

“What’s her name?” he said, soft. The cow was still eating happily, and he reached to scratch her ears with a free hand.

 

Ronan worried at a fraying seam on his jacket. “Camilla.”

 

Adam smiled, the barest tilt of his mouth. “From the Aeneid.”

 

“Right you are, Parrish.” His lips turned up, smug, and it reminded Adam deeply of their time in the Aglionby latin class. Trading quotes from dead poets had been their version of tactful flirting. 

 

“To think you gave me all that shit for being a nerd," He grinned. "And you’re naming your farm animals after obscure characters from Roman literature.”

 

Ronan shrugged. Adam was long past being surprised by his knowledge when it came to Latin and the Classics, but it always gave him a thrill. They had been the only ones competent enough for the difficult texts at school, and it began to feel like a secret language.

 

 

"Agnosco veteris vestigia  flammae. " Adam said.

 

Ronan smiled, and Adam had to focus on petting the cow. His hand was turning orange from all the dirt on Camilla's fur.

 

_ I feel once more the scars of the old flame. _


	2. what if my heart is the wrong thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam was suddenly anxious. He hadn't been snowed in since he was fifteen, and getting snowed in with his ex-boyfriend on an isolated farm, forty minutes by car from the nearest town, sounded like a recipe for disaster. "Do you think Blue and Gansey will be able to make their flight?"
> 
> "I don't know." Ronan said, crossing his arms. "Do I look like a weather forecaster?"

 

wanted to feed my heart to the birds

but i heard if you feed a bird the wrong thing

it’ll explode.

                          what if my heart is the wrong thing?

 

— Siaara Freeman, _Erasure Poem From Bone Thugs N Harmony’s Crossroads_

 

The Barns were covered in ice. Each tree branch shone wetly in the light, and the steps on the front porch were slick. It had started to rain when Adam went to sleep that night, after walking back to the house with Ronan and making tea to thaw the chill from his fingers. When he woke up late the next morning, the cold seemed to seep through the window panes. The floor felt frozen under his feet when he climbed out of bed, even though he was wearing a pair of thick wool socks Blue had knit him for Christmas the year before.

The house was uncharacteristically dark, shadows in all corners. Downstairs, cool gray light came in through the windows, but the lamp in the kitchen that Ronan always left on was off. Adam flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. Still addled with sleep, he tried again. It took a long moment and a glance out the window to realize the power was probably out. The overcast sky threatened to churn out snowflakes at any moment, and The Barns was unfortunately prone to losing power.

Ronan had told him stories about how his family used to get snowed in during those strange late-february snow storms that always swept in to kill the early-blooming daffodils in Henrietta. Of course, at these times, the power would go out for days on end. They were so far back in the mountains that they were almost always the last for the Rockingham County service team to fix the power lines. To Adam, it had been almost unimaginable. Playing board games and reading books to pass the time. Making hot chocolate on the gas stove. Sleeping all together- Matthew, Declan and Ronan piled into their parents bed because it was the only bedroom with a fireplace.

Adam hid in those kinds of snowstorms, when his father couldn't get out of the trailer and find someone to pick a fight with. Couldn't do anything but drink on the couch and snap at him the moment he entered the room. Adam's mother, of course, stayed in bed all day paging through the cheap gossip magazines from the gas station. He had distinct and terrible memories of stealing cans of soup from the cabinet above the sink and eating them cold in his bedroom so he wouldn't have to come out.

Snowstorms didn't hold any nostalgia for Adam.

 

After making himself breakfast - thankfully many of the kitchen appliances were dreamt, and therefore operational despite the power outage- Adam found Ronan in the living room. He'd built up a raging fire in the fireplace, and was stretched out on the couch with a battered collection of Catullus poems. He looked extremely put out.

Adam sat on the arm of the couch. "What are you scowling at?"

Ronan looked up from the book. His expression was sour. "This is my face."

"Right." Adam replied. "Your face when you're pissed. What happened?"

He huffed out a breath and crossed his arms, placing the book face down on his chest. "One of the plum trees got obliterated. Blown to shit."

They had picked plums from those trees all through July and August, ripe and heavy as stones in their hands. He remembered kissing Ronan, sticky and sweet from the juice running down their faces. Adam felt a twinge of sadness.

"The cold froze the sap." he guessed.

Ronan nodded. "The fucking shit-stain ice storm knocked down the power lines. I already called the power company. Apparently the whole county's out."

"Shit." Adam said. He turned to face Ronan from his perch on the arm of the couch, scooching his feet so they wouldn't touch his legs. He didn't want to make things weird. Were things already weird?

Ronan's socked feet knocked into his ankle.

"How long do you think the power will be out?"

"Fuck if I know." Ronan said, shrugging in a way that was somehow forceful. "The forecast yesterday said there's supposed to be a snowstorm. It could be awhile."

Adam was suddenly anxious. He hadn't been snowed in since he was fifteen, and getting snowed in with his ex-boyfriend on an isolated farm, forty minutes by car from the nearest town, sounded like a recipe for disaster. "Do you think Blue and Gansey will be able to make their flight?"

"I don't know." Ronan said, crossing his arms. "Do I look like a weather forecaster?"

He was abruptly annoyed with Ronan, and the situation they were in. He got up from the couch and sat on the ledge of the fireplace, his back to the flame, warming him through his shirt and sweater. His phone hadn't died yet, and it was valiantly clinging on to two feeble bars of signal. He tried to check the weather, which didn't load, and then he tried to look up flights from Dulles to see if any flights were coming in or out. This did not work either.

Adam let out a sigh, and allowed himself a moment to close his eyes. When he opened them, snowflakes were falling outside the living room window.

* * *

  


Adam spent most of the day stubbornly installed by the fire, while Ronan tinkered with the generator in the basement enough to get the lights in the kitchen and living room working.

"We've only got enough gas to keep it running in the evenings." Ronan told him. He'd spent the morning outside splitting wood until they had a stack large enough to last them a few days. It felt like the apocalypse, the way Ronan ran around collecting candles and bringing up canned soup from the basement. It reminded him of how his mother would send him out to buy milk and bread before a snow storm, only to find the shelves at the grocery store empty.

That night, Adam helped Ronan feed Camilla again. It was easier a second time, he knew where to hold the bottle and when to pull back so she didn't choke herself. Ronan was quiet, thoughtful as always with the animals. The snow was falling in thick, fat flakes and by the time Ronan had settled the animals for the night- covering their bodies with thick, dreamt up heating blankets, turning on strange, sinewy white lamps that glowed and let off heat like miniature suns- the snow had already piled up to their ankles.

Inside, the fire in the living room was dimming to coals and ash.

"You're just letting it die?" asked Adam, who had been planning to crash on the couch. The farmhouse was old and drafty in places. The air inside had already turned colder.

"I'm making one upstairs." Ronan said, stacking his arms full of firewood and kindling from the pile next to the fireplace. "I don't want to sleep down here."

Adam remembered hazily that there was another fireplace in the master bedroom. He couldn't remember using it. Most of the time he spent at The Barns was during the summer, when he wasn't busy with schoolwork. The heat outside was too oppressive to consider building a fire of any kind.

"I wanted to sleep on the couch." Adam said. "Declan's room is freezing already."

Ronan fixed him with an exasperated look. "You're sleeping upstairs, Parrish. The insulation is shit down here."

"I'll be fine, Ronan. I can just build the fire back up."

He shook his head at Adam. "Just take the goddamn bed, Parrish. It's not like we haven't shared before."

Adam's words died on his tongue. There must have been something in his expression because Ronan said: "It's big enough you won't have to touch me." He turned from Adam, the back of his shaved head unforgiving and of course, unreadable. The tattoo crawling from the neck of his shirt spoke of things familiar and dangerous. Adam wished he could rest his cheek against Ronan's warm shoulder. He wished he could touch the velvet crush of his buzzed hair.

He didn't know how to say the things he felt in words.

Ronan carried the firewood up the stairs, and Adam followed him.

 

The bed was the same as it had been in the summer, besides the blankets that Ronan piled on. Adam was too cold and too nervous to sleep in his boxers like he usually did, so he changed in the bathroom into a pair of navy sweatpants. While he brushed his teeth,  Ronan knocked on the door.

"Leave the tap on so the pipes don't freeze."

Adam left the tap on.

When he came out of the bathroom, Ronan was crouched in front of the fireplace. He was coaxing a fire to life with newspaper and pinecones, leaning over the wood and blowing on the flame. While he was in the bathroom Ronan had changed out of his sweater and into a long-sleeved thermal shirt. In the light from the fire he was stark, and warm, and terribly close. Adam didn't know where to put his hands.

He crawled into bed and pulled the heavy blankets around himself. With his eyes closed, he listened to Ronan moving around the room for minutes and minutes until the bed shifted under the weight of another body. He had become warm and loose limbed, sleepy eyed despite his anxieties. The fire crackled and popped. Ronan's elbow touched his shoulder. Adam wanted to speak but his tongue felt leaden in his mouth. His eyelids were so heavy. In the dark under the covers, he found Ronan's arm with the side of his palm. He wanted to take his hand and put it on his cheek but he was too tired.

He didn't remember falling asleep. Snatches of dreams played through the night. Imagined hands in Adam's hair, cupping his elbow, smoothing down his eyebrows. Ronan sitting up in bed and turning to pull his shirt over his head, his skin turned gold and orange in the firelight. His tattoo black as the day he got it, ink and blood all mixed together. Picking Queen Anne's lace in the fields during the summer. Touching the knobs of Ronan's spine when he bent his head down to pray.

When he woke up again it was dark out, and Ronan wasn't in bed. The fire was still high and loud, and blissfully warm. He closed his eyes again. There was nothing better to do in the snow and the cold. He could hear the wind howling against the windows. Time slipped from him until a door creaked, and he opened his eyes to see Ronan kicking off his boots, and hanging his down parka on the back of the door.

"Go back to sleep." Ronan told him. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold, and snowflakes were caught melting in his eyelashes and hair.

 _What were you doing out there?_ Adam wanted to ask, closing his eyes against the brightness of the fire. He opened them again, fighting against sleep. Ronan had his back turned, taking off his work pants wet from the snow. His bare legs were pale and substantial as the moon. Adam's eyes slipped shut. The bed creaked as Ronan got under the covers beside him.

He couldn't stand it.

"You're cold," Adam mumbled. He rolled onto his side so he was facing Ronan, and opened his eyes to look at him. "What were you doing?" His voice was tenuous from sleep and disuse.

"Camilla needs to be fed twice a day."

The sheets were piled around them like oceanic drifts of white. The sun hadn't risen yet, leaving the orange glow of the fire as their only light source. Ronan's face was in stark relief against the pillowcase - his dark lashes and brows, the sharp set of his jaw and the slash of his mouth like an open wound.

Adam touched his face slow, and careful, his thumb in the dip between Ronan's lower lip and chin. Ronan's lips parted as he exhaled, and he felt the warmth of it in his fingers.

"Was I in your dreams last night?" Adam asked. His voice was so low it could get lost under the roar of the fire. Ronan's eyes fluttered shut. "You were in mine."

Under the sheets Adam found Ronan's hand, tracing his arm elbow to wrist bone in the dark. He felt shaky and raw, like his insides had been scraped out with a spoon. He scooched forward, his legs tangling with Ronan's until they were thigh to thigh and chest to chest. Ronan bowed his head forward until their foreheads touched; his neck curved like he was praying. Adam longed to wrap himself around him and never let go, until they melted into one body instead of two.

He brought his hands up to cradle Ronan's head, his buzzed hair soft and familiar under Adam's palms.

"All the time." Ronan said, his bitter laugh somehow both a curse and a litany at once. He pressed his face into the skin of Adam's neck. His lips were hot against Adam's skin. His hands found their way under his shirt to rest against Adam's rib cage, and Adam leaned into the touch. His chest ached with some unfound emotion threatening to spill over. "I didn't think you were coming back," Ronan whispered.

Adam wanted to cry.

Instead, he just pressed his lips against the crown of Ronan's head. "I'm right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait i'm a slow writer... will post more when i have a significant chunk to give to u all lol. hopefully u guys r enjoying this despite the fact that it's a winter/christmas fic being posted in like. april lmao.   
> anyways if u want to find me on tumblr i'm @virginiasummer and on twitter i'm @dykemedusa!


	3. we move like a bad scene

Oh, lover  
You run from me  
We move like a bad scene  
Shot in the dark

LCD sound system, _Oh Baby_

The snow fell relentlessly. Adam spent most of the morning in bed with Ronan; sleeping on and off. There was nothing better to do. The power was still out, and a foot of snow had accumulated overnight. It was still falling in thick, fat flakes- so many it was impossible to see the fields or even the fruit trees in the front yard through the noise of it. In the master bedroom it was warm and comfortable. There was no reason to leave, or even move until his stomach started growling at almost one in the afternoon. 

Ronan (being more restless than Adam) had already eaten, ventured out in the snow to feed the animals, and returned. He had installed himself in bed with a paperback thriller. At the loud rumbling from Adam's stomach, he conspicuously raised a dark eyebrow. 

"Do you want lunch?" His bare feet were sticking out of the comforter at the end of the bed. 

"Breakfast," Adam corrected. 

"Maybe for you." Ronan snorted. "The rest of us follow the schedule of the living." 

Adam pulled the blankets higher around his chin, protesting. "I'm on break." 

"Yeah, you're a real lady of leisure, Parrish." His voice dripped sarcasm. He flung the blankets off his side of the bed, and rummaged through the drawers of his dresser until he pulled out a pair of ugly socks with a Scandinavian pattern on them. "You want mac and cheese?" 

Adam propped himself up in bed. "You're not making food for me." 

"No," Ronan said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his socks. "I'm making lunch for myself."

 This was typical of Ronan- quick to make any gesture look like it was for his own benefit. 

Adam got out of bed, even though the floor was cold and he could've tried to nap again. "I'll help." 

Ronan gave him a look. It was the kind of look that said:  _ don't start with me.  _ Adam ignored it and went to Declan's room to pilfer another pair of socks and his Stanford sweatshirt from his suitcase. It was freezing.

Downstairs Ronan was already banging around the kitchen, filling a pot with water and lighting the stove with a match, rifling through the pantry for organic boxed mac and cheese. 

"You beat me to it." Adam said, propping himself up on the counter to watch Ronan cook. 

He gave a non committal shrug. "Told you I was making lunch." 

Adam did not point out that splitting a box of mac and cheese probably didn't count as a real meal. He grabbed the box from beside the sink, and read the instructions on the back. 

He offered "I'll get out the milk." 

Ronan waved his hand in a way that meant  _ sure, fine, whatever. _

It was cold enough in the house that they almost didn't have to worry about food spoiling. Adam took the carton out from the fridge, shutting it as quickly as he could to keep from releasing any of the chilled air. He left it on the counter next to the stove, and then hopped up to sit on the kitchen island. 

It was so still inside-  Ronan made pale and snowy as an angel with the diffused white light from the blizzard outside. The only sound was the hum of the gas stove, and the water slowly starting to boil in the pot. 

"It's so quiet." Adam said, his voice hushed to match the rest of the world. 

"It's peaceful."

Adam couldn't agree with him. He shrugged, using his shoulder to scratch his ear. He couldn't hear anything at all when he covered his right one. The quiet made him feel out of control. 

"You have anything that works to play music?" 

"I think Dad dreamt the record player," Ronan's expression was complicated. "we used it during snowstorms when we were kids. You can bring it in from the living room if you want." 

The record player was in the living room as Ronan had said. It was old, and dusty, and it didn't look like the remaining members of the Lynch family were using it much at all. Beside it, there was a grubby milk crate full of records. They were mostly of the Irish folk variety, but Adam found a jazz record wedged towards the back that he liked the looks of, so he carried the record and the player back into the kitchen with careful steps. He didn't want to drop it. 

Ronan was standing over the stove with a wooden spoon, poking the boiling pasta every few seconds. In Adam's brief absence he had put a colander in the sink in preparation to drain the macaroni. Adam's stomach growled again, obnoxiously loud in the quiet room. 

"Hungry?" Ronan asked, looking smug with his ability to prepare boxed mac and cheese. 

Adam let it slide, and put on the record. "Starving." 

A smooth, upbeat jazz song crackled and fizzled to life on the stereo. The singer had a low, doleful voice that harkened back to another place and time. It was the sort of music that Adam thought Gansey might enjoy. 

_ Once again I seemed to feel that old yearning,  _ the singer crooned. 

_ and I knew the spark of love was still burning _

Ronan looked up from the boiling pot. "This was Mom's favorite album. Chet Baker." 

Earnestly, he told him: "It's nice." 

Ronan shrugged. "It's sappy. She liked that kind of stuff." His posture was somehow subdued. He took the pot and poured the boiling water out into the sink. Steam billowed into the air as the colander caught the pasta. The music played on, switching to a slow, silvery song. 

Adam crossed the room and installed himself on the counter again. Ronan came back to the stove to make the cheese sauce. They were quiet together. It was a companionable kind of silence, close and still. The music played on comfortably in the background. Ronan began to hum along, so quiet it was nearly indistinguishable from the song. 

He felt as if he'd strayed into one of Ronan's dreams. 

"What day is it?" Adam asked. The snow was disorienting. He didn't know when Blue and Gansey were supposed to get in from Vancouver, but with the way the snow was falling it was clearly not happening in the next few days. 

"Sunday." Ronan replied, flat. He was preoccupied pouring the mac and cheese into two plain china bowls. 

"When's Christmas?" 

"Seriously, Parrish?" Ronan glanced up at him, exasperated. "Look at the calendar. It's Tuesday." 

"Tuesday?" Adam echoed. That meant it was the 23rd. He was supposed to be at Fox Way by now.

"Would I lie to you?" Ronan rummaged through the drawer for a fork. "Tuesday. I know because that meant Church two days in a row." 

"I was supposed to be at Blue's house by now." Adam said, surprised how quickly time had passed. He missed her, but he'd been so involved with Ronan, with the Barns, that he hadn't realized that Christmas was so soon. It was setting in now, that he probably wouldn't see her. He would be staying with Ronan until the snow cleared. That complicated things- It would be easier if it hadn't snowed. It would be easier if they weren't so tied up in each other. 

"I know." Ronan's expression closed off, and he turned away. "I was supposed to be in DC. It's not my fault we're stuck here."

Adam was quiet. Ronan took his bowl of mac and cheese and sat down at the kitchen table, facing away from him. The other bowl sat on the counter, waiting for him. 

Carefully, he said: "I missed The Barns, you know. I didn't come back just for Blue and Gansey." 

He came back for Cabeswater even though it was gone, the foothills of the mountains that rushed up around him, the ley line thrumming under his skin, ravens calling in the trees. He came back for the blood he left in the dirt, the vines crawled up in his veins, his hands that now belonged to him and him alone. He came back for magic. 

Which was to say, he came back for Ronan. 

He sat down at the table next to him. Both their arms sprawled on top, Adam pressed his elbow against Ronan's, touched the back of his hand with his pinky finger.   
_I missed you_ Adam wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He didn't have anything left. 

Ronan pressed his little finger against Adam's, and looked him in the eye. His gaze was so intense that it seared Adam's insides. His mouth felt dry. Ronan hooked his pinkie into Adam's, and then threaded their fingers together. He did it slowly, like Adam might disappear if he wasn't gentle. 

Adam could feel his pulse in his wrist. Ronan traced the knuckle of his thumb, rough from scrubbing his hands raw to remove engine grease. 

His eyes slipped shut. Ronan was still tracing the shape of his bones. Adam said: "Ronan." There was nothing else to say. He couldn't form words in his mouth, only the shape of his name. 

Ronan stopped moving. Adam leaned across the table to kiss him. 

It was an awkward angle, and the corner of the table was pressing into his stomach, but Adam didn't care. He was too focused on Ronan- the soft noise he made in the back of his throat, how he let go of Adam's hand to pull his face closer instead. His lips were warm against Adam's,  his thumbs resting on his cheekbones. Adam never allowed himself to think about how he missed this part, tried to drown it out on restless nights by doing homework or extra credit. Here at The Barns, in this house with him, it was impossible to deny or resist. 

He wanted Ronan in every single way. He wanted to laugh with him, and catalogue strange dream flowers, and push him down on the bed on Sunday afternoons to wrinkle his pressed white shirt from church. He wanted so badly it felt like a well inside him, all these things he gave up because it was easier for him to cut out Ronan sooner, rather than watching their relationship grow more and more distant. 

He couldn't do that to himself- or Ronan. 

_ What are we doing?  _ Adam thought. Ronan's tongue was in his mouth, his hands were in his hair, they were wrapped up in each other like blankets to hide from the cold. 

Adam pulled back to catch his breath. Ronan's face was inches from his own, pale and luminous as the Parian marble used to carve ancient Greek statues. His eyes were still closed and there was an unbroken stillness between them. If they looked at each other, it would fall apart. 

Ronan opened his eyes, and pressed his thumb into the indent on Adam's collarbone. He'd broken it when he was fourteen. A small, concave patch of smooth, pink skin was the only evidence left.

Something inside Adam was tearing itself apart. He felt like laying his head down on the smooth kitchen table and closing his eyes. He felt like crying. What was it about such a small gesture that could undo him entirely?

Ronan seemed to sense the disruption in Adam's expression and said: "food's getting cold. You should eat." 

Adam laughed a little, but it sounded like a hiccup. 

Ronan pushed the untouched bowl of mac and cheese towards him. He tried to act gruff. "You're still a runt." 

Adam wasn't skinnier than he'd been when he left for college, but Ronan had been pushing food on him since they'd met. It used to bother him- he took it as pity, but eventually he saw Ronan doing the same thing to Matthew- even though he was a bear of a boy, and realized it was one of the only ways he felt comfortable showing that he cared. 

Adam rolled his eyes, and took the fork abandoned between them on the table. "You always say that, but I'm stronger than you." 

That summer, he and Ronan had taken turns seeing who could lift more on the decrepit weights set in one of the barns. It had clearly lain unused since Ronan moved back. Objectively, he looked bigger than Adam with his broad shoulders and toned arms, but Adam bested him easily. He could bench press 160 pounds because of his weights class at Aglionby and the constant workout of fixing cars at Boyd's. Ronan only boxed and hauled hay bales around the farm.

Ronan scowled at this reminder. "Whatever. I'm not gonna ask you to arm wrestle, Parrish." 

Adam smiled at him and Ronan told him: "Eat your goddamn food." 

They ate and listened to the music and ribbed each other with old jokes so time-worn and smooth that they didn't hurt anymore. Adam was recklessly happy. 

After half an hour of shit talking at the kitchen table, reminiscent of the summer he'd spent between Ronan's bedroom and his own cramped apartment at St. Agnes, they moved into the living room. Ronan coaxed a fire to life in the fireplace, and nagged at Adam to get the generator and then the TV in working condition. They crammed themselves under thick, old woolen blankets that smelled sour and dusty. Ronan lay on his side, propping his head up on his elbow to look at the television, where they had put on a nature documentary. Adam, despite his better judgement, crammed himself in next to Ronan, the top of his head level with his chin. He felt warm and exhausted. Outside, it was still snowing. The black, tar-painted fence posts looked like they were wearing white hats. 

He watched, distantly, as tropical birds performed various mating rituals onscreen and a British narrator described their actions. He was paying more attention to the feeling of Ronan's chest against his spine, one of his arms thrown over his shoulder like a blanket, the other toying absently with his hair. The unconscious familiarity of Ronan's touch made his chest ache. It was like coming down with a cold he could never shake. Or a fever, with the way Ronan made him feel- shaky and hot and hollowed out with hankering for the cure.

Adam couldn't decide if he wanted to tuck himself against Ronan's chest and fall asleep to the sound of the fire crackling, or if he wanted to roll over and kiss him until they couldn't stand it anymore, both of them burnt out by longing. 

He had missed him desperately. It was only here, with nothing to distract him, that he could admit the truth to himself. Adam took Ronan's hand, draped over his shoulder, and pressed his scarred knuckles to his mouth. Over the dramatic soundtrack of the TV show, he heard him sigh, and felt Ronan's head dipping down, his forehead resting against Adam's skull. 

Adam kissed his fingertips one by one, lingering longer than was chaste. He felt Ronan's body tense against his, taut and anticipatory. He put his mouth to Ronan's wrist. It was as vast and terrifying as the night sky to hold his heart beat against his lips, to feel it pulsing fast beneath his skin. Adam grazed his teeth against the tender deltas of veins on his wrist, and Ronan arched into him. He twisted his head down, his mouth falling against the exposed junction of skin between Adam's shoulder and his neck. 

Ronan kissed him there, and then sucked Adam's skin between his teeth in a way that made him shiver and press himself back against Ronan's body. They were as close as they could get without taking off their clothes. Adam didn't care if Ronan left hickeys. There was no one around to see them, no one around to demand explanations and look between the two of them with narrowed eyes. The crackling fire and the silent snow falling outside were their only witnesses. 

Adam rolled over and on top of Ronan to kiss him. He pretended, in that moment, that they had all the time in the world. That he and Ronan were together again without complications, that he wasn't going back to school in two weeks, that he could tell Ronan: _ I love you _ without breaking his own heart. 

It was a lie only for himself. 

Adam kissed him deeply and fervently, trying to put everything he felt into his hands and his lips to give to Ronan. He was hungry and drunk on the closeness he’d been longing for all these months away. Ronan's arms were wrapping around him, and he was pulled in, a sailboat dashed to pieces against the rocks of a stormy sea. 

Adam leaned back and pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor and rucking Ronan's scratchy aran sweater up his waist until Ronan sat up and finished the job himself. It was chilly on one side of the couch and blazing on the other, the fire throwing heat into the room. 

"Jesus, shit it's cold." Ronan complained, but Adam silenced him by pressing their mouths together and slipping his tongue into his mouth. Ronan didn't complain anymore, just slipped his hands into Adam's sweatpants and pulled him closer by his hip bones. 

He shivered. He wasn't sure if it was the cold, or Ronan's hands on his skin- the strange, rough calluses from using the shovel or the backhoe. Adam remembered the day after their fight in St.Agnes, how Ronan had shown up to school with blisters on his hands from digging a grave for his own corpse. 

He wished that he hadn't left him to do that by himself. 

He wished he hadn't left Virginia without saying goodbye. 

There were a lot of things Adam thought he would change if he could- but he couldn't even bring himself to say  _ I'm sorry. _

Adam unbuttoned Ronan's jeans. He didn't want to let go of him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to find me on tumblr i'm lesbianmedusa  
> and of course, all characters belong to maggie stiefvater.


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